The Tycoon's Diamond
by Miss Nae Malfoy
Summary: Edward Cullen is a tycoon lawyer for the Abduli Family, who own very influential oil companies around the globe. Bella is a smart, funny girl that put her own life on hold when her father's company is threatened by his sudden illness. When these two meet at an upscale casino in San Fran, what is stopping Edward from ending his loneliness and taking this sweet virgin as his bride?


"A solid eight… that's all I need, a solid eight!" James screeched as he shook the two red dice in his hands and threw them against the green felt craps table, all in search of that golden, quick get-rich opportunity he always thought he'd have. I rolled my eyes at my ex-boyfriend's fruitless antics. Did he really consider himself a gambler, beside the fact that he would take any easy route to making a dollar that he could? The roll was in his favor, where an eight showed itself and the tiny crowd of scantly-dressed girls and middle-aged men surrounded him. I sipped the casino's complimentary drink as I folded my arms in a retired gesture; he called a few hours ago, promising a beautiful evening beneath the stars so that we could "talk things out". Why did I ever date this guy? He was a loser then and he was definitely a loser now! I looked up at the ceiling as James bet all of his chips, which only amounted to five hundred dollars; my Mimosa hung loosely in my hand and I bent my wrist back and forth to get a drink, and irony struck me as I studied the tiny, glittering stars painted on the high vaulted building above me.

Well, we were beneath the stars. And besides the cheap lottery machines on this floor, from experience I knew that the four floors above us were littered with big shots and money handlers of all sorts. My dad was a frequent to this casino, Gioergio Hanes Casino, when I was younger. "Hot eight! It's a hot eight, Bella…" But when he saw the bored look on my face, his blond eyebrows drew together in a determined manner. Weird, he was never determined about anything. "If I roll an eight, this girl is going to marry me!" James riled the crowd easily. My eyes grew wide in fear- if, by god, he did roll an eight I would be severely disappointing a lot of people. Including the craps handler awaiting my answer. I decided just to omit a response and looked towards the destination of his two red devils. Three years ago, when we first met, I would have been too ecstatic for words at such a proposition- but then again, that was when I was a Freshmen in college and he was still a Senior. Now, I was graduated and he was still at UC Berkeley, studying American Studies like it was a real thing.

He tossed the dice in a nervous gesture and watched, with his jaw open in shock as the two dice equaled five; I sighed in relief and pat his shoulder in a consoling gesture. "I'm going to the ladies room." I murmured softly, turning my back on the scene of him losing all of the money he thought he worked hard for. I was dressed for the part and such, but I still felt very out of place in this royal casino. So when I passed two women, done up in more expensive clothing, I looked down until I pushed through the swinging door of the Ladies' Washroom. People never understood the embarrassment of having money and then losing it all, unless they were the Swans, or the local Gambler's Anonymous junkie. Well, we technically hadn't lost all of it yet. I still had my inheritance, and my father still survived off of his retirement from Swanson & Johnson, Inc. We knew our money supply would not last forever, but my college fees were all paid and my apartment was still based in Palo Alto, the city where I was born and raised. I studied Linguistics in college, but when I couldn't afford more years of grad school, I knew that was where my degree stopped.

I finished my business in the restroom and walked out, taking a left rather than a right back to James. I figured that anywhere he wasn't present was the right direction for me to go in, so I followed a few different signs that led me to an open room, which were obviously rooms to do more private business in. I knew from experience that such places were open to the public, thought it wasn't a known fact and lets face it- what normal, underdressed individual just walked into dimly-lit rooms where only three gambling tables were opened? This wasn't Las Vegas, this was San Francisco. I navigated my way through the small crowds, stopping at a black jack table to watch two very young millionaires and one elderly man play at each other. I never liked Black Jack, the odds were too hard against an individual for my liking. But these men played with precision. When the elderly man won the round, I clapped enthusiastically with the other women around me. I enjoyed this certain crowd- no one looked at me oddly, thanks to the lightly, and so my black cocktail dress looked just as fine as theirs.

The next round began, and another tall suitor joined in, whether it was for the money, game, or crowd-pleasing; but my attention was drawn somewhere else. I first felt his eyes on me- it was that creepy feeling you get when you know someone is watching you, so I turned around slowly and clashed gazes with a well-built man across the room. He was sitting at a poker table, or what looked to be one, and I could see his sparkling green opals physically beckoning me to him. A slight nod of his head in my direction clarified everything I had assumed- rich men weren't to my liking. Money was nice, yes, but money made men go mad. Even though I looked away in haste and turned back around to the game, I knew he continued to stare. Obviously, I was dressed in my best to impress an old boyfriend and show him what he was missing, but it was not for this stranger! "M'am, this is courtesy of the gentleman at the poker table." A humble waiter bowed slowly at my eye level before offering a platter with a single glass of sparkling champagne. This was Grade A shit, imported right from the little frenchie's hands out in vineyards of Oxford, France.

I knew exactly what male he was mentioning, but I snatched up the drink and still faced away from him. He could have bought the drink and gave it to me personally. "A fine card player, isn't he?" A woman of Amazon height murmured appreciatively beside me. "Not these newbie brits." She chuckled at the obvious direction of conversation I assumed she was going in. "I'm speaking of the gentleman that bought you this drink." Her blonde curls bounced as she moved about as she spoke. "His name is Edward Cullen, and he is not known for buying women drinks."

"Should I feel lucky?" I teased her with a smile.

"I'm sure you know how these men are." The blonde bombshell talked all-knowingly. She glanced my front and then my back in a very inappropriate gesture. I felt gob smacked and tried to cover my body with my two small hands. "Oh, quit with the sudden shyness." She added in frustration as she pinched the fabric of my waist in a sizing gesture. "An old Vera Wang, what- five or six years old? You know, you can tell a lot about a woman about her little black dress. Its her simplest show-stopping, subtle-yet-explosive trademark of beauty. My little black dress is a Coco Chanel vintage side button-up with pearl attachments, you're a five hundred dollar fall season Vera Wang from a half decade ago. See, we have tell-tell signs all over us." She schooled me in less than two minutes with her confusing, inconclusive speech. What did an old, yet expensive Vera Wang dress ay about me? That I used to be a good person, that I used to have money, that I used to have style? I didn't want to supply her with anymore ammunition than she already had, so I stayed quiet and sipped my free drink. "Rosalie Hale, Entrepreneur at Rosenberg Romancers." Rosalie offered her tanned hand out for me.

I shared a small smile with her. "My name is Isabella Swan, daughter of an entrepreneur." I supplied as an icebreaker.

"Oh, right." Her blue eyes shimmered mischievously. "The daughter of a rich old man. I like it." Rosalie didn't abuse the information that I supplied for her, and I definitely appreciated that fact. There was no way I was going to come out and admit to her that I was just a twenty-two year old that waits at her sick father's bedside, hoping that he awakes the next morning. I was at the full disposal of my grandfather's company partnership with the Johnsons, but I couldn't make decisions like my mother and father could. My mom was mean and rude to all that crossed her path, but she was a great saleswoman- and so she did all of the business traveling and international meetings that my dad used to do. It was a good day for Charles Swan if he were able to get out of bed, walk down the stairs to retrieve the daily newspaper, and make it all the way back to his bedroom. I usually helped him most of the way, and when the weather was permitting, we went for walks around the gated community my parents lived in.

My mom really did plan everything out- she knew how many days she'd be gone, so she prepared meals for everyday that she was away and gave me in-depth directions on how to serve it to him. And I was never allowed to eat any off of his plate… yes, she was _that _rude. And when I wasn't looking after my dad, I was filing papers and running errands for his business. "Excuse me, Miss." The most velvety, masculine voice I had ever heard sounded from behind me and I felt a firm hand place itself on the small of my back. I instantly whipped around and became face to chest with the beautiful stranger from earlier. In surprise and maybe some anxiety, I stumbled only slightly and kept staring at him in wonder. Great, I was clumsy and looking dumb in front of this Adonis!

He had a fantastic build, with muscles in the right places and a solid foot more height than me. I liked tall, well-built men- and even though I looked to be about twenty years younger than him, I knew I was way out of his league. "Oh, hello." I replied nervously, failing horribly at masking my sudden embarrassment with an odd giggle and a staining blush. If he was even a little attracted to me before, I definitely scared him off with that. Jesus, I was a grown woman, not some fiddle-fuddle schoolgirl! His almond-shaped green eyes roamed over my face, enjoying the way my cheeks colored and my small dimple indentations showed themselves. "Umm, thank you for the drink. I enjoyed it." I showcased the empty glass of champagne with a little twist of fingers and a flick of the wrist.

His hand sought out my limp one at my side, only slightly skimming the side of my exposed thigh, but it was enough to set my skin on fire. Edward made my fingers curl around his open palm as he spoke. "Would you like another? I shall order a bottle for my table if you would care to join me." I liked the way he spoke- it was nice to hear a man try to romance you without using "ain't" and "c'mon". Even though it was intensively attractive, I was still hesitant about being friendly with this man. He was handsome, had green eyes, and offered to buy me endless drinks… I got that he was a lot of other women's dream come true. But he was still, in reality, a complete and utter stranger to me. "I have been losing all night, I knew the first time I laid eyes on you that you would be my good luck charm." I wanted to scoff at him and laugh in his face- I just dodged a marriage proposal b because of bad luck!

"And if I bring only bad luck to your game?" I tested his patience easily.

"If such a thing were to occur, then I still could not regret having a beautiful woman there to withstand the toll of loss. What do you say, Miss? We shall split the winnings at the end of my game, or whenever you so chose to leave my table." That made my eyebrows rise; he wanted to split the winnings of a game I did not even bet on? It was a sweet deal, one that would only be passed on by an idiot.

"Fifty-fifty?" I said only tauntingly. Rosalie visibly laughed at the preposterous thing I said. These big wigs betted heavy tolls, starting at one hundred thousand dollars. But Edward surprised the both of us by nodding casually and smiling toothily. "Are you serious?" I didn't want him to take it back, or even go back on his word, but this was real money we were talking about.

"Some may say that I am too serious." Edward said with another smile. "My name is Edward. What is yours?"

"B-…Bella." I stuttered. "My name is Bella Swan."

"Bella Swan." Edward Cullen said with a dashing smirk of his own. "Shall we?" He offered a crooked elbow, and with one final glance at Rosalie (whom was nearly jumping up and down in excitement) I followed him back to his green velvet table. There were two other men playing, both looking only a few years older than Edward himself. "Poker, do you know how to play?" I took my time to answer him, giving a brief explanation of my younger years with my father and his minor addiction to both winning and losing. He ordered me that bottle he promised and insisted on pouring it for me instead of the tentative server. I giggled as he tipped it and took a long sip- he drank nearly half of it in one go!

The cards were dealt and we glanced at his for a small second. Despite the chilling ice around the bottom of the champagne bottle, I sat it in my lap and poured my glass full again. "What is the opening bid to play?" I asked nosily, half expecting him to be like other wealthy pricks and treat me like a worthless, mute bimbo.

He leaned into me and placed his mouth beside my ear, his warmth breath tickling my ear as he spoke. "One million dollars." I nearly shriveled at the ludicrous amount of capital dropped on this lone game of poker. These men tossed around and piled their chips like money came easy to everyone in the world. I started to think what I could do with one million dollars- feed the hungry and clothe the unfortunate people down at Carson's Shelter, the homeless center I often volunteered at when I wasn't dealing with the mishaps of my own life. I could reinforce the investments of Swanson & Johnson, Inc, I could buy some scientist and make him work until his death to find a cure for my father. I would get the most exclusive Unidentified & Sudden Disease & Disorder doctor out there to see my father and find out what was wrong with him. I would buy new wardrobe and be a part of the business world like my own mother was, I would finally go back to Grad school and finish my degree… I could travel all around Eastern Europe, perhaps even take some expensive language classes abroad!

He lost hand after hand, until I finally put my hand on his arm in a warning gesture. He was five hundred thousand dollars down, the old man across from us in a cheesy blue bowtie having collected almost all of that. This was not Edward's game, and I did nothing to push his luck in the right direction. Plus, the last three flutes of champagne gave me the kind of big balls that I needed to sustain my courage around this man. "Maybe another game?" I whispered against his ear. But he turned his head quickly and caught my attention in an instant.

"Kiss me, Bella. Give me just a minuscule particle of your luck tonight." He was a little more demanding when he said this, but I found myself drawn into the new persona he was showcasing. I laughed softly, but leaned forward and pecked his lips once, then twice. I wasn't one for PDA, so I pulled away before he could go any further. Fate was being a bitch that night; Edward won the pot, which totaled one million, two thousand dollars. The second player bowed out gracefully, although empty handed, and so it was only us and the blue bowties across from us. I liked to refer to Edward and I as an "us"- I mean, I knew it probably wasn't healthy that I was crushing over this guy that I hardly even knew, but wasn't it fun to forget everything else and just fantasize? Edward Cullen was just a fantasy that I knew I had zero to no chance of ever actually having. "One more?" He pushed the lines and boundaries I set up, but I couldn't help it. When else was I going to be sitting here with a filthy rich guy, helping him win by offering kisses with a promise of half of the pot?

I held his face in my hands, forgetting the half empty bottle in my lap, and smacked my lips against his in the most aggressive kiss I had ever given. It felt almost dirty that I nipped at his bottom lip in a rough gesture, and skimmed my tongue across his top lip. I only ever French kissed James once, outside on my porch of my apartment when we were in college. Once was all it took to reassure me that having a slimy tongue invade my mouth and personal crevices felt no better than it sounded. "Win." I muttered against his lips before sitting back in my seat and pouring myself another glass as Edward manipulated the rest of the game to his advantage. By the end, it was all in- both men were spent of chips, and I just wanted to make love to the humungous pot of three million dollars. They showed their cards and Edward won with two beautiful aces, but he lacked the luster and gore that a three millionaire usually had… well, not that I had ever even seen a three millionaire before, but the meaning was there. He wasn't giddy with delight, he merely stood and shook hands with the other player and smiled in a small gesture.

These people didn't do happy dances or cry in joy when they won, and this crowd had nothing on the one below us two floors down. The craps table went mad with happiness when James won three hundred dollars, why weren't these bystanders jumping out of windows and updating their Facebook status about it? The full truth didn't hit me until the handler pushed the pile of chips in our direction… I just lost it. "Oh my god, oh my! Edward, ahhh!" I cried enthusiastically and planted kisses all over his face. "Three million dollars! Three million goddamn dollars… you won, oh my god, you won!" The smile could not be wiped off of my face as I jumped up and down happily, one hand holding the heavy bottle and the other holding his hand in a death grip. I didn't care how much money you had, when two million dollars more just fell on your lap, you got happy!

I could feel the crowd around us visibly tense as I shoved myself against him, slung one arm around his neck, hemming the champagne bottle against his back, and kissed the shit out of him. By this time, I didn't even really care for the money. I knew men didn't just forfeit that much money, I was just plainly excited that I was able to experience this victory with him. "A victory kiss for the three millionaire." I said against his cheek as he pulled me in for a hug; why the heck was he _hugging _me? It sort of seemed like he would do anything for more body contact with me, even if that meant aiding my ludicrous display of affection in front of all of these white collared San Francisco players. But I hugged him back- when was the last time I had a real hug like that? My dad was sometimes too weak to even sit up, let alone have the strength to engulf me in his arms like Edward could. I was feeling so tipsy as he let go of me and gave a slight bow.

"The fifty percent that I promised to you will be delivered, you provided very adequate services, Miss Swan." Edward enunciated every word as if it were his last. I laughed at the medieval time gesture he made and only shook my head.

"I don't want the money. That kind of capital turns people awful, I've seen it." Although it would have been nice to gain that kind of currency in my pocket, I knew it just wasn't right. I did close to nothing in the game for that money, and if he paid me it was only as some kind of entertainer or prostitute, and I wasn't either of those! "But I would like a delicious meal out of it."

"You are going to reject money from me?" Edward seemed offended by the ordeal. "One million, five hundred thousand dollars." He clarified the amount to me, but even if this seemed like a fairytale come true, I knew there were too many strings attached and conditions to apply to. "And you only request one meal ticket out of it? Miss Swan, are you feeling well?" The confused smile on his face was too cute for words, and my body was doing something crazy; I felt so sexually attracted to him, it was almost too much for my hormonal balance. Literarily, there was a massive war going on internally- I was trying my hardest to control the urge to make love to him right now on the empty poker table. Money and gambling had never turned me on like this before… it actually had the opposite affect on me usually.

"So, are you joining me or am I eating alone…?" It wasn't an ultimatum, I knew the answer he would have for me. Never before had I been in possession of this much control and sexual appeal as I did right now, and it was one glorious feeling for me. Edward nodded approvingly and accepted my offered hand; we clicked on the elevator and stepped in the empty shaft before declining two stories. He placed his thin phone to his ear and began speaking very rapidly in Portuguese- it was a language I told myself I could master, but never tried. I spoke five different languages- English, American Sign Language, Spanish, Mandarin Chinese, and French. They were the bases of all the other sister languages I had picked up over the years, but two languages absolutely stumped me… Portuguese and Italian. There was just too much emphasis and double meaning to their words, it was like a foreigner learning English with no help! The way he spoke, maneuvering around tricky vowels and letting the long sounds roll right off of his tongue, had me drooling in private. He finally hung up when the elevator door opened and we stepped out. "Can we stop by an ATM on the way out? These cabs around here hardly ever take plastic." I requested with a smile. Honestly, what was he going to deny me anyway?

"There is no need." I noticed he was still clutching my hand as we made our way through the crowd and to the East entrance- I wanted to correct him and direct us back to the south end, but he insisted that we head towards the valet parking and coat checking area. "Did you have your coat checked?" I shook my head sourly. There was no way I was going to pay a little girl in a red pantsuit tend dollars to hang up in my jacket in the back of a closet. That was just ridiculous. "Very well, we will be taking my car." He motioned his head to the full car lot and handed the valet his parking ticket. He was going to drive me to where we were going? It felt weirdly romantic that we would be taking a car ride across the bay to go and eat some greasy hamburgers. His 2013 Mercedes GT rolled up on tens and I had the hardest time picking my jaw up off of the floor. We were driving in that thing? My dad owned a Chevrolet pick-up his whole life, and we rode in the back of tinted window cars when we needed to be seen somewhere important with my father. My tiny Honda Civic looked like chopped liver next to a beauty like this!

"Impressive." I murmured softly. "But you do know that we're going into North Oakland, right?" I teased him endlessly. I loved Oakland, there was so much culture and art to be found there! When I lived in Berkeley, my friends and I took the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) train to Oakland every Sunday to eat their delicious food and visit their locally prestigious museums. Given North Oakland was considered the "nice" part of Oakland, one wrong turn took you right into downtown… and that wasn't a place we needed to be at this late hour.

Edward's tireless grin made my belly do little summersaults internally as he opened my door and then went around to the driver's side. "I'm from Oakland." That was a real surprise, he came off as a San Franciscan right off the bat to me. Edward pointed at the Oakland Raider's emblem on his dashboard. "My mother raised me in East Oakland, right off of Shattuck street. Definitely not as bright and shiny as North, but that's where I call home." There was no overly pricey areas going East of Oakland… did that mean he wasn't always this rich? "May I ask where you're from?" I began to notice the thick tongue he had with some of his words, like he was being too proper. Obviously the aftermath of an accent that he tried hard to hide from others.

"Palo Alto. What? Don't look at me like that." I cried jokingly, only slighting hating the fact that his face morphed into that "I figured as much" look. "What's wrong with the Los Altos county? We're _just _as hardcore as Oakland." I challenged his look with one of my own.

"No, Bella, there is no such thing as a "hardcore" Palo Alto. You citizens zip around in your Prius and pretend to rally with others about the carbon footprint of the rest of us… and let's not mention the fact that you have a losing team like Stanford to back your home on game days." He said this with a scoff. What was wrong with him? Stanford had a winning streak last year, I did not drive a Prius (I stuck to Hondas), and we were not crazy green party people!

"First of all, I drive a Honda Civic, not a Prius." I held up a finger in his direction. "Secondly, the kind people of Palo Alto are not all "go green" crazy as you think! And lastly, yes- Stanford does suck most of the time, but we were eleven to four last season." I would die defending my hometown, it was very near and dear to my heart.

Edward raised an eyebrow. Did he get them done or were they just naturally shaped like that? I liked them, they weren't bushy but neither were they thin like a woman's, or a gay's. "I take it you attended Stanford?" His assumption almost hurt my feelings. Well, at least he thought I was smart enough to go to an overpriced grad school like that.

"No, I went to UC Berkeley." I corrected him proudly. "I'm a diehard Bear." When the words came out, I blushed at how ridiculous and naïve I sounded. Really, diehard bear? God, that sounded stupid even to my own ears. He deep chuckle was not condescending or even mocking, but slightly musing. Still, I blushed a deep red and wanted badly to be out of the vicinity of this car. Edward just seemed… so cool and collected. How the hell was I going to survive the entire evening with him when he was in so much more control than me? But as I looked outside of the tinted window, I couldn't escape the beautiful view of the Bay Bridge… I had driven over it many of times before; usually during the day when Lauren wanted to shop on the mall off of fifth street, or when I was in college and we used to visit the ice rink across from the Ferry Building during winter time. Never at night time, though, we were always too afraid to make the long commute over the four lane strip back and forth. "Wow, that's beautiful." I noted in a small voice.

He took his eyes off of the road for a mere second to see what I was looking at before directing his eyes back to the asphalt ahead of us. "Would you like to tell me what's beautiful about it?"

I glanced over at him, as if to say "does it really need an explanation?" but I blabbed on anyway. "Well, the way the light posts illuminate the roads makes it look magical. And the ocean waves- crashing against the stilts that keep us up, doesn't that interest and scare you to death all at the same time? This whole bridge-over-water is utterly fascinating to me. I mean, can you imagine the man who thought about building such a thing for people to physically travel on 24 hours a day? I bet he was sitting back in his office, a fat stogie hanging from the corner of his mouth, in the middle of a gathering of city councilmen and all of his serviced advisors…" I stopped by babble abruptly and looked over at him in a panic. Oh no, I did that weird thing again! I just couldn't help but listlessly talk when someone asked me a question… it was a very annoying trait I had since high school, and it quite honestly prevented me from getting that call for a second date most of the time. The other reason I couldn't get very second dates was because of my clumsiness.

"Why did you stop?" The Portuguese millionaire nodded his head for me to go on. "I very much enjoyed your rendition of the bay bridge's construction. Please, continue." I laughed nervously, and it was a very ugly sound that I hated making, before starting from where I left off.

"Where was I? oh, yes… well, I imagine that his advisors proclaimed something ridiculous like that would be far too expensive and dangerous… but you know our councilmen, congressmen, and presidents- the more expensive and potentially life-threatening a project is, the more they're willing to help." Political humor was always acceptable when speaking to a more intelligent individual, it made you come off as someone who knew perhaps a dabble or so of current American culture. Edward bellowed at my snide remark and I smiled in return. "Anyway, the bridge probably ends up costing trillions of dollars and millions of lives… and not mention the century it probably took to build. But, after all, we have this glamorous railway to travel on anytime of the year we wish to. And it's magnificent." Even though the passing by equipment and fencing was littered with trash and bird feces, it was still _that _magnificent.

"_Brava, _Miss Swan. You are a fine historian." I liked the way he went along with my story, pretending with me that I knew the real way this bridge was made. "Though, I am not positive that UC Berkeley told you the history accurately." He teased lowly.

I loved the sound of his voice; it was deep, throaty, and the statuesque "manly" tone I imagined a lumberjack or a real life Vin Diesel would sound. "Maybe not." I shrugged comically.

Edward looked as if he were trying to subdue his laughter and control the emotion on his face as we continued on to my favorite restaurant, which he miraculous knew the address of. James hated Oakland, Mexican food, and letting me pick anywhere to go. He said I had bad taste in food and venue… unfortunately I didn't, for awhile, realize that I only had bad taste in men. "May I ask you a few questions?" Edward sent me a sidelong glance, and since I was too nervous to speak, I only nodded. I kept asking myself- why is he so gorgeous? And why was I in a bran new Mercedes, cruising around town like I was his date or something? I knew Oakland like the back of my hand, he was taking us around town the _long _way. "What is your favorite flower?"

That question took me aback. What _was _my favorite flower? I tried to take some wild guesses in my head, but decided to settle for a simple answer. "Dutch Tulips. My mother used to buy them every Friday morning at the farmer's market and set them in vases around the house." Why did I let him in on such a private and intimate detail of my life? I was with James for almost a year and he barely knew my parent's names!

"Would you mind elaborating on your relationship with your parents?" That was another question that stung me. Why was he so inquisitive? I understood that he seemed to take some kind of sweeping interest in me, but I really wasn't that interesting and neither was the topic of my parents. He must have correctly read the stirring expression on my face. "If my questioning has pushed any boundary, please tell me so. I only want to know more about you."

"No, uh, it's fine." I sent him a small smile. "My mom… she's a really bossy, controlling lady. And my dad, well, he's always been the one to keep the reigns on my mother. She doesn't jump unless he gives her the specifics on how high." I tried my hardest to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I loved my dad, but he use to have so much god damn control over Rene. It was sickening to admit to someone, especially a stranger that could easily judge me and not care how I felt. "But they've been in love since high school, and I doubt they've ever had a fight that kept them apart for more than an hour." At least, that's how I remembered it from my childhood. But everyone did have a knack for saying how blind I can be. "Now that they're older, my mom has taken over some of the control my dad has lost. He's… currently ill." That was tough to say out loud. Charlie kept it out of the media and the common public of his current condition, pancreatic cancer, for the best interest of his company.

Edward placed a consoling hand on my knee, and I swore to myself that it was just a natural reaction men had to women, but it felt like so much more to me in that moment. "That must be very hard for you." I was pleasantly surprised to hear him say that, it was as if he understood where I was coming from. It wasn't the usual "I'm sorry" or "That sucks" (James laid that one out for me earlier when I was trying to pour my heart out to him). "My father is a doctor and he claims that there is no such thing as desensitizing one's mind for work- he sees patients come on daily basis, and it never gets easier." was he making an analogy from his doctor of a father to me, a girl that will never get used to seeing her sick father remain ill?

I smiled at the effort he made to connect me. It was more than most people did. Despite Lauren's many attempts at showing compassion and kindness, years of her grueling supremacist-for-parents made her heart very cold. Lauren Johnson was the youngest daughter of my father's business partner, Landon Johnson. Landon and Linda Johnson were two very powerful, mean, ruthless people that got what they want and didn't stop to count how many toes they had to step on to get there. Though Swanson & Johnson was a very successful business to this very date, we weren't making as much money as before and I partially blamed the Johnsons for that. Whether or not I would ever be able to prove that the Johnsons ciphered money from our accounts or not didn't matter to me, I would stick by what my parents told me was the truth. "And what of your mother?" I honestly wanted to know what kind of person his mother was. Was she tall and breathtaking like him, or was she short and plump like a good old Portuguese mother?

The mention of his mother brought a genuine smile to his lips as we turned onto Shattuck street. "My mother is a saint, if you can imagine a saint that curses like a sailor when she's angry and drinks until she's silly at weddings." I laughed at the image he painted. "Her name is Esme, and I believe that she has the second most beautiful eyes in this world."

"And who has the first?" I inquired with a tilt of my head. I never really sat down and made a list of people with beautiful eyes, but I could name a few, like Elizabeth Taylor with purple irises, striped tigers with those weird shaped eyes, vampires that had opals of blood-sucking red… just to name a few.

We pulled up to the small parking lot of "Velasco's Mexican Shop" and he threw his sparkling beauty into park before turning towards me. "You, _beleza tantadora_."

I didn't understand his last two words, but it had me absolutely swooning. His lips were so full and plump, they were basically standing at attention for me! I knew this was the part in the movies where the Romeo says something in a different language and the girl goes all crazy for him and kisses him romantically. Could I have that special chick flick movie moment? I realized my chance was slowly slipping away as his eyes flickered away in defeat, obviously feeling ever so slightly embarrassed at declaring something so passionate in his native tongue with no response at all, so I did what I figured someone like Rosalie or my mom would do. I pulled him by the nape of his neck and kissed him softly on his mouth. Not one of those "hi, how was your day" kind of kisses, but something so much more powerful. I didn't pull away until his wet tongue started tracing outlines of my own lips- I was hungry, and if we kept going at the speed we were at, I wouldn't be eating food tonight. "_Paixao_." Edward murmured softly before reaching over me. For a minute, I thought he was going to rip my dress right off of me or try to sit in my lap, but he merely unbuckled my seatbelt and gave my hand a soft squeeze before exiting the car. I was still recovering from our breath-consuming lip lock, so I waited patiently as he went around the back of the car and opened my door for me.

I must have looked like a proud peacock walking into the shabby little restaurant with Edward Cullen at my side, not mention that I did a little excessive ass shaking when he held open the door for me and watched me walk in before him. Doing all those squats in front of the mirror and munching down on some gorditas over the years seemed to be have paid off. As soon the door closed behind us, a bell jingled to alert the owner of a new customer. Leti came waddling into the table area from the back kitchens with a notepad and pen. "Oi, dios mio!" Leti wailed happily as she set her equipment down and rushed to me. I was a few inches over five feet, but she was much shorter than me and was double my weight. But when she enveloped me in a hug and patted my hair lovingly, I felt like such a small kid again. Though she only knew me since the beginning of college when I visited here often, I was like a little baby of hers. "_Te has puesto tan bonito y crecido. Niña, Cómo has estado? Tienes hambre? Qué puedo hacer, mija? Majita!" _She was just genuinely happy to see me; she didn't want my money, any gossip, or motives to rip me and family into little shreds for the media. Leti just loved me. She only asked if I was hungry and kept telling me how beautiful and mature I looked.

Not wanting to leave Edward out of the loop because even though he was fluent in Portuguese, I doubted he just picked up on Spanish along the way, I sent him a smile. "_Ocho tacos va a estar bien, Leti."_ I ordered us eight tacos in hope that she would take the hint and prepare the food.

"And who is this fine young man, Bella?" She shot off in Spanish. "he looks very important and has good money to take care of you!" I suppressed my laughter at her comment. She was a third generation female cook originating from Jalisco, Mexico and boy, did she have a mouth on her!

"My name is Edward Cullen, Senhora. I am a friend of Bella's." Edward spoke just as fast as she did. I was shocked at his skill at speaking Spanish- I studied the language for two years in college and couldn't speak it that well.

"Ah, Edward Cullen." Leti sent me a knowing look as he kissed the top of her hand. "Very important name, very good for my Bella." She mused in the way that only older women got away with doing. Leti was like the caring mother I never had- she made sure I was doing well in school, made it a routine to call me every Sunday to make sure I said my prayers and attended church, and made sure that I had a warm meal in my stomach every night. Before I met her, I lived on cheap Thai food and overpriced college meals at the dining hall down the street from my dorm. She left us alone in a corner table and went to make our food before she could impose any marriage ideas on him yet.

"She seems like a very compassionate character." Edward mused gently, casually sliding his hand over mine on top of the table. "How do you know her so personally if you grew up in Palo Alto?"

I smiled. She was a topic that I loved talking about. "Leti is a very strong woman- she crossed the Rio Grande when it was still a thriving river with her mother and three nieces. Somehow, she acquired a visa, business license, and then citizenship papers for her and her family by the time she was thirty years old. I came in here one rainy night during my first semester at Berkeley; I was cold with no way back because I lost my purse with my credit card, and I so very hungry… I walked in and had five dollars stuffed in my bra, which was all I had to my name at that moment." I blushed at the fact that I just admitted I stashed five dollars of "emergency money" in my bra, but continued on. "She was kind enough to serve me a five course meal for free and offered me a ride home back to Berkeley. From then on, I visited this place regularly and even helped out when she needed me. Leti helped me through the language barrier I had when learning Spanish in college."

"Yes, I was very surprised when I heard your mouth fire off such a foreign tongue. What made you learn the language?" Edward seemed really puzzled over my little surprise.

"Well, I'm a linguistic major." Again, I felt proud as a peacock to actually say that to someone like him. "I know Spanish, French, Mandarin Chinese, American Sign Language, and English. Though I'm only fluent in the first two, and of course English." He nodded respectively, an impressed facial expression spreading over his cheekbones. "Was that some sort of surpise to you?"

"Perhaps." Edward pursed his lips at my inquisition. "Though it isn't a complete shock, you are one brilliant woman." I smiled at his compliment but looked away with another blush. He thought I was brilliant? If brilliant meant kooky, ridiculous, clumsy, and feather-brained, than yes- I suppose I was brilliant. "And what have you done with this degree?"

"Well…" That was the part where I was going to come off as not-so-brilliant. "I haven't really taken advantage of my degree as of yet. I mean, I applied to Roswell Medical Supplies a few months before I graduated this last spring, but I haven't heard from them in almost a year." I saw myself working in a huge, multimillion dollar corporation translating contracts and business meetings. Not filing papers and entering data into computers for my dad's company. I graduated last spring, but now it was almost February of a new year and I had not ventured out like I thought I would after college. I sighed. "I work for my dad's company, and since my mother has temporarily taken over his duties, I am basically her personal assistant. It's definitely not what I thought I'd be doing after so much class time and college tuitions." I couldn't pretend to be some important mumbo-jumbo person like he was. "So, what do you do for a living?"

Edward squeezed my hand softly in reassurance. "I am a lawyer. I attended California Poly University and attended grad school at Harvard." I wrinkled my nose slightly. A lawyer? That was almost as bad as a politician! "What is that look for?" He teased.

"I just… didn't expect you to be a lawyer." I admitted lowly. "Maybe some kind of tycoon or loan shark, what with the kind of bank you have, but not a lawyer. What are you, O.J Simpson's lawyer?" I added tauntingly.

"I am the private lawyer for the Abduli family and their respective oil companies." Oh, well, that explained it pretty well for me. That kind of position made a lot of money if I wasn't mistaken, and I highly doubted he had trouble paying back the schooling for his law degrees. "I fly frequently to and fro Saudi-Arabia, and our meetings include places all over the world. Usually, he enlists his second lawyer for Central and Western European councils but I advise all of his dealings here in the United States and parts of Eastern Europe." That sounded like the perfect jet-setting life to me! No worries, no problems, lots of money, new vacations any time I pleased… I sighed deeply.

"That sounds _very _exciting." I exclaimed with more enthusiasm than was appropriate.

Edward chuckled and stroked the back of my hand as she spoke. "For the first few years, yes it was. Now that I am older, I have found that it is only… lonely." His words touched my heart, and every time his fingers brushed mine, a electrifying chill went down my spine. "To see these men with their picturesque wives wrapped in furs and jewelry, and to realize that once we have all parted ways from the dinner meeting, they have a warm body to keep them company. I… would rather be with no woman than settle for deceit." His words snapped at me. Deceit? Is that what he thought of all women?

"Please, you could have any woman down on her hands and knees. I bet she would come in a package, anyway you wanted." I spun the little straw of my drink around with one finger.

"What is a woman worth if she is not true of heart?" He added cryptically.

"Not very many women are." I said honestly. He was coming from a place many of men came from; women were sometimes evil and conniving, I didn't blame him for having trust issues. "But hang in there, the right woman will just… fall on your door step one day." Though it didn't come out as philosophically as I wanted it to, he obviously got what I meant because he smirked down at me.

"So, you are promising me that a good-hearted woman will fall from the sky and in front of my penthouse door one fine morning, then?" I nodded in a casual manner, as if to reassure him. He let it slip in a loose manner that he lived in a penthouse- if I wasn't severely impressed before, I was now. Our food came seconds later and we grubbed while talking about more trivial things- like mainstream media, current events, and personal tastes in music. Of course, he liked jazz and the fine arts. I remembered how tortured I felt reading Romeo and Juliet, or attending a mandatory "gala" for my visual art's class my senior year of high school. Those things never took my interest, maybe because I just wasn't looking hard enough. Roughly an hour later, Edward had finished a second order of his plate and we were walking back to our- _his _car in food ecstasy. Did I just try and call something of _his _mine? What was with me lately? "What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours, Bella? It is so fascinating to watch you think, do you know that?" I blushed at that.

We snapped our seatbelts in and he took off with a low purr of his engine. "You like to watch me think? If you weren't so handsome, I think I'd find that creepy, Mister Cullen." I liked to keep the mood light when I was talking to men. I mean, I couldn't let their compliments get the best of me, because if I took what they said too serious, I'd be rendered speechless more times than I could imagine.

"You think me handsome, then?" His accent seemed to thicken as the night drew on. "You wouldn't find it offensive if I admitted that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, then?" Again, my cheeks stained red but I cursed myself for falling into that little trap of his. I could tell he enjoyed power, especially over people, and by taking his flattery I was giving him that. Well, I wasn't my mother- I couldn't let another have sole power over my thoughts or emotions.

"Oh, what a gentleman. I will definitely have to put that qualaification on my resume. Maybe Roswell Medical Supplies will hire me when they find out that Mr. Edward Cullen thinks I am the most beautiful-" I didn't mean to turn something nice he said into joke, but it was hard to imagine how else I could have taken it. Should I have looked at the floorboard and giggled? Should I have shared a soul-searching moment with him by staring into his eyes and never looking away?

His face contorted as he looked away from me and his grip on the black leather steering wheel was so tight that his knuckles turned white. "You truly aren't capable of accepting a compliment for what it is, Bella?" There was an intense edge to his voice. I was slightly put off at the sudden change of atmosphere in the car. One minute we were cozy and joking and the next he was acting like my aloofness made him uncomfortable!

"Okay, I'm… you say I'm beautiful, thank you for the compliment." I said at last, having a really hard time choking out "I'm beautiful". it wasn't that I didn't think I was pretty; on the contrary, I enjoyed looking at myself in the mirror before and after showers just to see if anything changed about my face or body, but I grew up with the belief that men didn't like women who _knew _they were beautiful. When I admitted this to him, he let out a short bark of laughter before taking my hand and bringing it to his mouth. He placed soft, butterfly kisses over my knuckles, fingertips, and the inside of my palm, all the while driving very fast through the small crowd of bay area traffic with one hand on the steering wheel.

"I want to hear you say it. From your lips, with no doubt in your mind." Edward seemed adamant about his request. "I want you to say "I am beautiful", Bella, because that is what you are. Go on, say it for me." He took my hand to his close lips again and focused on the road while I mustered up the courage to say what he wanted me to. What if I completely denied him, then what would he do? He wasn't my master, he didn't make me… if I didn't want to say it, I didn't have to.

But deep down, I did want to comply with his every wish and want. Deep, deep, deep down I did think I was beautiful. Rene's shrill voice kept repeating in my mind, "How are you ever going to have a husband unless you play the unknowing beauty? A woman that does acknowledge her beauty but feeds it is a happy woman, and a woman with a husband." He looked over at me expectantly and I pushed the first few syllables out. "I… I, uh…" Was I suppose to feel this silly? Sure, women proclaimed their beauty all of the time! But I had never really come to terms with mine. I wore revealing clothing, spent lots of time on cosmetics, and even read up on fashion mags and online trends, but I never once stopped and told myself that I was beautiful. I never needed to before. "I am beautiful." I said at last, but with the lack of luster that I knew he was looking for within me.

"Once more, with _paixao_." He said that word again. It was a word in his language that he muttered after we kissed earlier, and I began to wonder what it meant. "Say it like you mean it, Bella Swan." Edward held my hand tighter.

Flashes of memory went through my brain like a sharp knife cut through cloth; constant bickering between my mother and I over trivial matters like my eating habits, heated arguments that James would spark over nasty comments about my outfit, and then one of the biggest blowouts I ever had with my dad… all over one skimpy little cocktail dress I wore at a dinner party only my mother and I attended. I remembered the red in his cheeks and the disgusted look he sent me when he saw the picture featured on The San Francisco Times- I still remembered the article under the "Current Affairs" section of the newspaper. "ONLY HEIR TO SWANSON FAMILY OF SWANSON & JOHNSON, INC. DRESSED TO KILL"; what I had considered good rep for me (seeing as that was the first time I was ever featured in the newspaper without my father right beside me) but he was ready to choke the living daylights out of me. I was in a strapless, satin number with a slit starting from my mid-thigh and going down to my calf, not to mention it was skintight and barely breathable. "I am beautiful." I said with more confidence. Even though my dad made me feel lower than shit that day, with the nastiest, rudest names I had ever been called, Edward was right.

I was beautiful.

A/N: THE NIGHT IT NOT EVEN NEARLY OVER!

What happened to James? Will Edward find out about him? Where exactly is he driving off to at such a high speed? Will we ever meet their highly crazy & dysfunctional families?

Is this more than a one-shot? ; ). REVIEW to find out the scoop.


End file.
